Harry Potter and the Combat Butler
By Andrew J. Talon and Fitzgerald
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter is not our property. It belongs to JK Rowling and Time Warner. We're not doing this for profit. The only thing in this story I own is Castor Malfoy.
- - - - -
"Headmaster... Are you sure that it's wise, recruiting such a... Colorful individual?"
"Ironic coming from you, Severus," Professor McGonnagal stated with a slight smirk. The Potions master glowered across the Headmaster's office, ignoring the lemon drops in front of him. Dumbledore shook his head with a sigh.
"You know as well as I do, Severus, that with the exception of yourself no one else who is a member of the Order was in Slytherin. Nor was anyone else a member of the Malfoy family."
"He ran away as a boy. I doubt he could possess any particular knowledge I could not find," Snape stated flatly. Twinkling blue eyes measured him carefully.
"Perhaps," Dumbledore allowed. "However, his record speaks highly of his talents, despite his status as a Squib."
"We have more than enough of those," Snape snorted. "Just what talents does he have that a wizard does not?"
"Severus!" McGonnagal admonished. The Potions Master was unrepentant, sneering back. The Assistant Headmistress sighed, and turned to Dumbledore.
"I must admit, Albus... I too am curious as to Mister... Castor's qualifications."
Dumbledore smiled, fingers formed in a steeple.
"I believe you'll find he is a man of many talents."
- - - -
Little Whinging, Surrey
A rather boring little bedroom community just off the M3 and some sixty kilometers North East of Gatwick Airport.
A place where 'Normalcy' is much sought after commodity and status.
Having a Camaro complete a rapid and sudden turn onto Privet Drive was somewhat out of place.
That the rather aggressively coloured vehicle pulled to a stop in front of #4 by pulling a rather noisy 180 degree hand brake turn leaving behind copious amounts of rubber on the street.
Stepping out of the car, a tall, well built stranger pushed his messy, bleach blond hair out of his eyes and pulled on sunglasses, despite the fact that the sun was already setting. Tugging on his black suit, he brushed off some lint with tanned hands and stretched.
"Why must you wear sunglasses? It's only going to get you killed, you know," sighed a lightly London accented female voice from within the car. The man turned back and scowled.
"They're intimidating," he replied in his own Estuary lilt, lighting up a fag with his handy lighter.
"You look ridiculous," the female voice sighed. "But no, by all means, run into a mail box on your way to the door."
"Oh sod off, crazy hula bint," he muttered, closing the door and stalking across the street. His hands firmly in his pockets, he quickly came to the door and rang the bell.
A few minutes fumbling and a large man with a huge, handlebar mustache answered. He glowered at the stranger.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Right. Is a Harry Potter at home?" The stranger asked in a pleasant, if slightly bored sounding tone. The large man's face began to redden.
"You... You're one of those freaks, huh? What do you want?"
"I'm here to pick him up. I trust you could let me in the door?" The stranger asked. "Vernon, was it?"
Vernon colored even more, gritting his teeth.
"No you may not! I will accept no more of your kind in here, especially not after what happened!"
He slammed the door. The stranger sighed, breathing out an exasperated puff of smoke. He cracked his knuckles. He grinned.
"And here I thought this was going to be boring," he murmured, before raising up his boot and kicking in the door. Vernon turned around, face turning even more red as the stranger entered.
CRACK! The stranger moved, an open palm strike snapping Vernon's head back and breaking his nose. As he fell back the stranger slammed another fist into his solar plexus, and a knee to the groin. He finished the Dursley off with another high kick to the chin, sending the massive man crashing to the floor of the hallway. The stranger snorted at the pictures lining the walls of a fat blond child.
"Ugh... Hate the decor..."
"AAAHHHH! YOU-YOU-WHAT DID YOU-?!" A bony woman shrieked in the kitchen. She was already moving towards the phone, a problem easily solved by a quick punch to the device sending it crashing to the tiled floor.
"'Scuse me," the stranger said, pulling a spray bottle and dosing the screaming woman with a fine blue mist. Her mouth closed, her eyelids grew heavy, and Petunia Dursley slumped to the floor, fast asleep.
- - - -
"How is a lot of punching, running and use of Muggle toys going to help anyone?" Snape sniffed. Dumbledore smiled.
"He has demonstrated that despite his lack of magical ability, he is no less dangerous than any wizard-More, in fact, given that this lack makes it a requirement for him to be... Creative."
- - - -
Large, heavy footsteps alerted the stranger to the third of the Dursley family, and he turned with a broad grin to a wide-eyed, angry Dudley on the staircase, repleted in leather jacket.
"I've heard you box," the stranger said conversationally. "I hope you'll be a bigger challenge than your father here."
"You-!" Dudley roared, charging down the stairs and straight for the stranger, meaty fists up and ready to strike. With the ease of experience the stranger trapped Dudley's leading arm and pitched him into the kitchen table with a splintering crash.
"Ugghhh..." The fat teenager groaned, having hit his head hard. The stranger sighed and rolled his eyes, before kicking him as hard as he could between the legs.
"GEEEAAAHHHH!" Dudley screamed in a much higher pitch than usual. The stranger shook his head again, and turned around, a cheerful smile on his face as he spotted his target.
Messy black hair, check. Thin but not too badly built from Quidditch, check. Green eyes, check. Lightening-shaped scar on the brow, check. Glasses, check. Holly wand pointed right at him with an expression of shock on his face... Double check.
"Evening Harry Potter," he said cordially, an honest smile on his face. "My name's Castor. I'll be helping you escape this evening."
- - - -
McGonnagal sighed. Most recruits into the Order of the Phoenix hadn't had ten minutes of debate. But this one...
"Look at his criminal record, Albus," McGonnagal urged. "See how his 'talents' and 'creativity' have been turned."
"He is a warrior, Minerva," Dumbledore replied gently. "And this is a war, is it not?"
"Warrior? More like a common thug," Snape snorted.
- - - -
"You're from the Order?" Harry asked, surprised. Castor nodded.
"Yep. Of course, you shouldn't trust me at face value," the blond man stated. Harry raised an eyebrow, wand still on him.
"Because you might be a Death Eater in disguise," Harry stated. Castor nodded.
"True, except for a couple things." Castor smirked and bent down, calmly rifling through Vernon's pockets and releasing a triumphant "Aha!" when he pulled out his wallet.
"One, if I was a Death Eater in disguise, I'd disguise myself as someone you know and trust," he began, quickly yanking all the money and credit cards out of Uncle Vernon's wallet. Harry didn't make a move, wanting to hear what he had to say and quite frankly unconcerned about his relatives. They all seemed to still be alive.
"Two, if I was a Death Eater, I wouldn't be that creative," Castor went on, shoving the money and plastic into a pocket before walking over to the cupboard under the stairs. He produced a crowbar out of an inside pocket inside his jacket, and Harry knew that it had to be magic to do that.
"Because I'd be an inbred moron who only lives for carnage and mayhem and Imperioing hot Muggle women to do me because that's the only way to get some aside from whores," he continued, slamming the crowbar into the door and wrenching it open, ripping apart the wooden frame. Harry nodded, still keeping his wand on his visitor.
"And three, they certainly wouldn't send a Squib to kill you," Castor finished, yanking out Harry's trunk and broom. Harry raised his eyebrows, and recalled that the man had not used a wand once.
"You're a Squib?"
He smirked. "Just cause I'm a Squib doesn't make me helpless," he stated simply, walking over to the front door and setting Harry's luggage down. "You've got other things you'll be wanting to take with you?"
Harry nodded and turned to walk upstairs. Castor grinned.
"Well, that takes care of that," he decided. Vernon groaned. He startled to rouse.
Castor gave him another kick in the balls and his breath turned into a girly squeal. He snorted derisively over Vernon.
"Yeah, big man now, huh?"
- - - - - -
"Still hard to imagine this used to be little Castor," McGonnagal noted with a wry smile, looking over some pictures taken of the subject in question. He still carried the Malfoy aristocratic lines-Sharp chin, high brow, proud cheekbones-But with his deep tan and much paler hair he had a significantly more exotic look to him. Like an adventurer of olden times, waving a wand to cut through the dense jungles of Africa for treasure or potions ingredients.
When last she'd seen him, he was a tall, lanky boy, soft spoken and soft smiling, not meek but definitely quiet, restrained.
"He's been many places, Minerva, seen and learned much," Dumbledore spoke pleasantly. "I feel he will be a very valuable asset."
"If he can be controlled," Snape interjected. He held up some newspaper clippings referring to a 'Blonde Bandit' raiding a drug lord compound in northern Mexico all by himself. Substantial rewards were offered for his capture.
"He does seem to get into more than his fair share of trouble," Dumbledore confirmed, "but then again, so does Harry."
"So we need two of them?" Snape asked flatly.
- - - -
Harry appeared downstairs a few minutes later, stepping around the unconscious Vernon into the kitchen. Castor was busy taking out all the money from Aunt Petunia's purse, seemingly failing to notice Dudley getting slowly back up and readying his charge.
Just as the massive boy was about to tackle him, Castor sidestepped Dudley and tripped him, slapping the back of his head just before he rammed it into the undersink cabinet.
"Oh quit crying you great big pussy," Castor snorted as Dudley sobbed, his voice muffled from being under the sink. "You should only be crying if I'm serious." He shook his head, giving the massive boy one last kick to the groin (making him sob even harder) before turning around and jauntily saluting Harry.
"So, shall we be off then?"
"Gladly," Harry said with a smile. He turned to the door and made to avoid Vernon again, stopping at Castor's cough. He looked over his shoulder questioningly as the blond man walked up, shaking his head.
"Like this, Harry," Castor advised, stepping onto Vernon's groin. He stomped on it for good measure, before crouching down and slapping a note on his forehead.
"There," Castor grinned, picking up Harry's trunk and walking out the door first. "I wouldn't be a proper bodyguard if I didn't make sure everything was safe for you first, right?"
"Bodyguard?" Harry asked with a frown. "Dumbledore's giving me a bodyguard?"
"Actually, I volunteered," Castor called back, ignoring the gossiping neighbors already looking out their windows. He ignored the snoring of what he knew was a drunk and sleeping Mundungus Fletcher, walking over to the Camaro and opening the boot, dropping the trunk in. Harry followed close behind, and Castor took Hedwig's cage and set it in the back seat, before shutting the boot up and gesturing to the passenger side of the car. Harry slid in, buckling his safety belt and reassuring Hedwig, who was hooting in annoyance at being in such a compact place.
"Now then Harry," Castor began, sliding into the driver's seat, buckling up and turning on the car's engine, "since we've got some time ahead of us, I was thinking we could pick you up some new clothes. That sound good?"
Harry nodded. Castor grinned.
"Good. The Dursleys owe you that much, so... Feel free to get creative," he advised with an evil smirk.
"You're going to be in so much trouble Castor," squeaked the plastic hula doll on the dashboard. Castor just grinned.
"Damn right I will be. But it'll be fun."
With that, he drove off at high speed.
- - - -
"He was a perfectly able student in his classes while he was here," Dumbledore continued. "Polite, well behaved..."
"He was using a Dark artifact to simulate his usage of magic!" Snape growled. "That hardly qualifies him for anything!"
"He at least worked hard," McGonnagal offered flatly. "Without any favoritism from his house," she added, making Snape sneer.
- - - -
Harry looked about the interior of the Camaro as they drove away from Privet Drive. He was amazed at the fact that no police sirens were being sounded behind them. There was ample time for one of their neighbors to call.
"Uh, Castor? I thought you were a Squib?"
"That's right, I am," he said, proudly. Harry blinked. Every squib he'd met before, and wizard, thought that being without magic was the worse thing ever. When he was thought to be a Squib, Neville's own uncle dropped him out a second story window. Someone... proud to be a Squib?
"Er... About the house...?"
"Oh, relax. The Muggle police won't be calling any time soon," Castor reassured the teenager with a grin. "The SEP field took care of anyone watching."
"SEP field?" Harry asked, blinking. The hula dancer on the dashboard cleared her throat.
"Someone Else's Problem field," she recited. "It essentially filters a non-magic person's perception to think of it as 'Someone else's problem', so they ignore it. I extended it out over the house so no one would pay any attention after getting a quick look."
The hula dancer glared at Castor. "Which a certain someone named Castor forgot to do!"
"Oh c'mon. The Order can clean up it's own bloody messes," Castor snorted.
"You're part of the Order!"
"Technically I'm just working for them, I'm not part of them," Castor corrected, raising a single finger.
"That's not what you told Dumbledore," the hula dancer scolded. Castor rolled his eyes.
"Al? Man couldn't play poker for crap. I made the oath to, and I quote, 'fight the Dark Wanker and protect Harry Potter', unquote. Makes me a bit of a mercenary really."
"Mercenary?" Harry asked with a frown. Castor grinned.
"Relax Harry. I wouldn't have taken the job unless I wanted to, and I want to. You're someone who needs protecting, not to mention some fun. Plus, old Voldiewarts needs to be taken down a few pegs. Actually the whole set." He shook his head and leaned back.
Harry frowned. "So... Um... How did you join the Order?"
"Well, I've been here and there and done this and that." Castor said as he took a drag off of his cigarette. "I've had fun along the way, made some time with a girl or three, kicked some ass, and picked up a pearl of wisdom now and then."
"Like what?" Harry asked curiously.
"Ok," Castor said as he flicked his cigarette out the window, "If you ever find yourself down in Bangkok; always, and I mean always make sure that the girl you pick up isn't packing any extra equipment; if you know what I mean." Castor grinned at the look of horror on Harry's face.
"Anyway, the Order right? Old Al tracked me down in Moscow, said he was putting the Order together again, asked me for my services. I told him I wasn't into old men and that wasn't my business anyway."
Harry's jaw dropped. The idea of the headmaster asking for... That... Castor grinned.
"Joking, joking! Lighten up Harry!" He took another drag off his fag and turned a corner, the tires squealing loudly. "Anyway, I agreed to come back to London, as I needed a place to lay low for a while."
"Lay low?" Harry asked, aghast. Castor shrugged.
"Eh... I kind of accidentally blew up an old Soviet base I was invading to save my girl from the Russian Mafia. They're not too happy with me. Neither is my girl. Then again, she wasn't mine, persay, I was saving her for her parents due to PRAGS."
"PRAGS?" Harry asked with a blink. Castor nodded and counted off on his fingers.
"Protect the innocent, Rescue the captured, Attack the bad guys, Get the girl, Save the World." Castor blinked and frowned. "Nobody ever taught you the Hero's Code?"
"Hero's Code? I'm not a hero! I just-!" Harry began, before Castor flicked his forehead. "Ow! Hey!"
"Now now, that violates the Heroic Rules of Heroically Heroing Rule number 9: No moping. You're not an anti-hero, that's the Anti-Hero's Rules."
Harry blinked in utter disbelief.
"But that's okay!" Castor said cheerfully. "Don't worry about it. As your bodyguard, of course, it's my job to keep you safe and get you to loosen up."
"So, can you tell me why I haven't received any news all summer?" Harry asked, his anger resurfacing at this thought. Castor nodded.
"Sure Harry. Not a problem. Anything you need me to tell you, I'll either tell you myself, or find someone who will…"
- - - -
"He did at least work for his Potions grades, Severus," Dumbledore offered gently. Snape snorted.
"Feh... He cheated, and never earned a damned thing he got, and he threw it all away like the selfish brat he was!"
"He threw it away," Dumbledore began calmly, but with eyes twinkling slightly less, "because the Muggleborn friends he made in defiance of his father were slaughtered along with their families the moment Lucius found out."
- - - -
"Now Harry, the key to using someone else's credit card is to engage the stores clerks in conversation," Castor pointed out as the elevator opened out to the Men's clothing department in Grace Brothers. "That way they don't bother to check just who is using the card."
"Really Mrs. Slocombe your pussy getting neatly trimmed isn't an appropriate conversation for work hours."
"Really Captain Peacock, it isn't as if we have customers at the moment," Mrs Slocombe commented in a mildly annoyed tone.
"Quite," Captain Peacock said as he turned to Harry and Castor. "Welcome to Grace Brothers how can we help today?"
"Harry here needs to get kitted out," Castor said with a grin. "Full set of kit, lost almost all of it after a bit of water trouble."
"Of course," Peacock answered before turning to view the staff under his command. "Are you free?"
Exchanging solemn glances with one another all the staff answered formally and in unison. "Yes I'm free, Captain Peacock."
All that was except for the somewhat effeminate trill of "I'm free!" from Mr. Humphries.
Harry blinked, and looked uncomfortably at Castor. The blond gave him a reassuring smile before ushering him towards the dressing rooms.
A few hours later, a bewildered and mildly traumatized Harry Potter left the store, carrying several bags of clothing with his bodyguard shouldering a heavy load himself, but talking happily about how nice the entire staff was and how he'd have to visit it again.
- - - -
Back at Number Four, Privet Drive, the Order of the Phoenix apparated in to a suspiciously open front door. Moody scanned the house quickly, cautiously moving in with wand drawn... Only to sighed heavily at the form of Vernon Dursley, still unconscious on the ground.
"Blimey Moody, what happened?" Nymphadora Tonks, a junior Auror, gasped. Moody read the note stuck to Vernon's forehead, retrieving it with a quick summoning spell and handing it to the currently pink haired woman. She read it aloud for the rest of the group, eyes widening.
Cousin Castor here. I decided to grab Harry ahead of schedule as the Dark Wanker is likely not creative enough to think that Harry'd be rescued the Muggle way. Really, a flight of broomsticks? He'd be expecting that a mile away, the daft bugger. I know this for certain because the Death Wankers are all wizards and think all wizards think alike, and thus thought you'd think to think like wizards..."
"Idiot boy," Moody growled. "I can't believe Dumbledore called him in..."
"Well... He has a point," the tall black bald Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt offered. Remus Lupin sighed, as Hestia Jones just blinked in confusion.
"He probably saw that Dung was on watch again, drunk," Lupin added with a snarl at the source of the foul smell to his enhanced senses, "and got him out of the house."
"Did a number on the Dursleys," Hestia observed. Tonks snorted. After hearing what they were like, she and nearly every other Order member wouldn't be particularly upset about their injuries. She skimmed the rest of the letter.
"Dung was drunk, guessing you saw that... Should arrive a few hours early at that place, wanted to pick up Harry some new clothes and what not. Sleeping Potion I sprayed the missus with should wear off in a few. I beat up the walrus and the pig, nothing a few healing spells won't fix. I do ask you make sure you don't fix their willies unless it's life threatening-Keep the gene pool clean and all that.
See you at HQ, your cousin,
"He does ramble on, doesn't he?" Shacklebolt observed as Tonks walked over to the snoring, currently invisible Dung and kicked him. Lupin sighed.
"Just what we need... Another Sirius."
- - - -
"BLOOD TRAITORS! FILTH OF THE EARTH! SCUM! OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU DIRTY BLOODED-!"
"Oh, well, nice to see some things don't change!" Castor shook his head, calmly leaning against the wall facing Mrs. Black's portrait and lighting a cigarette.
"YOU! YOU, YOU TRAITOR! YOU SCOUNDREL, YOU BASTARD CHILD!" She shrieked, yellow eyes bulging. Harry could only stare as Castor easily ignored the old woman's ranting, gazing at her with a bored look.
"Right, right, 'cause I wanted to marry a girl whose genes aren't buggered from inbreeding," Castor calmly replied. He rummaged about in his jacket pockets.
"YOU REFUSED YOUR BIRTHRIGHT, YOU SHAMELESS BEAST! YOU PITIFUL PISS RAG OF BLOOD! YOU-!"
"Wh-What's that?" Harry asked, nervously eying the small package Castor had stuck onto the surprised Mrs Black's face. Castor turned and gave Harry a small grin.
"I'm here... Blimey! Castor, that you?" Sirius called from the top of the stairs, staring in amazement. At the sight of a new target, Mrs. Black's confusion was alleviated with rage.
"WHAT-WHAT-HOW DARE YOU STICK THIS-THIS-!"
"This is me," Castor replied happily. He held his lighter under the package and ignited it.
"Consider this a token of my esteem," he went on calmly as the fuse began to burn. "C'mon Harry, up the stairs. Let's watch..."
"Watch what...?" Harry asked, dumbfounded as he was led to what he presumed was a safe distance. Castor grinned up at Sirius.
"Ever hear of thermite, Cousin?"
A grin emerged on Sirius's face as the package burst into white-hot flames.
The painting burned with incredibly intensity, so much so that Harry had to cover his eyes. When it died down he looked and gaped in astonishment as flames were quickly consuming the wall and the carpeted floor.
The flames vanished from a burst of super cold magic from Sirius's wand. Despite the incredible damage done to his residence, and the chance the whole house might have burnt down, Sirius was grinning ear to ear at the blackened ruins of his mother's portrait.
"Absolutely brilliant," the Black head enthused. Harry stared in disbelief as Castor took a slow drag off his cigarette.
"Not so hard... The charms are designed to prevent magic flames from damaging it, this I remember," he explained. He shrugged. "Just a hunch that if there's no magic to ignite it, there's no magic to cancel out." He turned to Harry and winked.
"Let that be a lesson to you, Mr. Potter. There are times to do things the Magic way, and times to do things the Muggle way. But it doesn't hurt to know how to do both."
"Not to mention that Muggles always were good at making things go boom," Sirius added. Castor laughed.
- - - - -
Just kind of an
experiment for an alternate Year 5 of Harry Potter. And a way to use
an idea I've had for a Squib!Malfoy who isn't a Pureblood bigoted
idiot. Castor Malfoy, Draco's disowned big brother. A concept I put together on TFF.
If enough people think I should keep up with the concept, I will. If someone would like to make this into an actual story, you can do that as well. It would let me focus on my other projects like Key Through the Heart more. In any event, leave your thoughts on this (currently) one shot, good or bad. Thank you.